March 26, 2009

My tongue aggrandizes
academically, that is to say
I don't love You. I say
I do, I'm covenanted to
what I've said. You know
that promise is deliverance,
for in times lacking touch
I've lusted for our violence,
a toothless tearing of flesh;
a rationalism You'd hate and I would regret.

Perhaps in refusing our separation,
I've instead divorced my heart
from my head.

A creed to come back to,
a serpent bronzed, a representation
of inauguration; something solid to
repent into. A cup that is deep enough
to hold blood for my contrition
to dissolve in, a body that is strong
to be lifted up, once for my sin,
and then once again.

What tragic beauty, arabian jujube
pressed in scarlet curls,
perspiration falling on the neck of
Your heaving back, eyes falling to
the dust of the ground.
You felt as I do now. A separation
what ran through You and what You said.
But unity was stronger, still is,
than that which splinters our skin.